


A Kiss from Death

by crescentdescent



Series: Klance Grim Reaper AU [1]
Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Voltron Grim Reaper au, also intending to make a sequel, also my lame sense of humor, definitely not because my sister got me into Goblin recently, hopefully i'm actually committed to finishing this one, klangst at its finest (I hope)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-09-28 12:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10101050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescentdescent/pseuds/crescentdescent
Summary: Keith is on the hunt for his ten-thousandth soul, a milestone in making him a full-fledged employee of the Altea Bureau of Angels.Fallen angels.Too bad this soul is a bit more difficult to tame than the rest.Or:Grim reaper Keith is trying to collect Lance's soul, but accidentally falls for him at the same time(Also I've tried to beta the best I could. Please disregard any grammatical errors)





	1. Good job, Keith

**Author's Note:**

> The last time I touched a fic was the summer of last year, where I accidentally abandoned my legend of korra au fic when I left for Europe. I'm still grateful for all the love that one received, and I hope I will actually go back and finish it (it's about 3 chapters away from completion).
> 
> The updates for this one is gonna be slower because (ding dong) it isn't summer anymore, and I'm currently trying to not succumb to senioritis.
> 
> I hope that this second fic does my children justice!

 

“Let’s see, soul number-ten-thousand,” Keith hummed as he flipped through his small, leather book. “M, M, M--here we are.” He underlined the named “McClain” with a gloved finger. Beneath his nail, the text of black ink transformed into a deep, bloody red.

 

Shiro, his supervisor, had insisted on holding a celebratory party for collecting his ten-thousandth soul back at their department--particularly because this collection would landmark Keith’s milestone as a full-fledged member of the organization. It was probably difficult to grab a hold of a day off in this day and age, now that the mortality rate was going up again. He silently assumed it was because Shiro received permission from Allura Altea, heiress to the Altean Bureau of Angels.

 

 _Fallen_ angels.

 

Collecting the first hundred or so souls was honestly quite difficult, something Shiro, his long-time mentor, had warned him. The moment Keith introduced himself as a “Shinigami,” the spirits whom he had come to collect would either distort their faces with blobs of tears or throw of a fit of bitter denial--or perhaps be too disturbed at the sight of their own lifeless body to care. Thankfully, reapers were required to wear masks on duty; when he was less seasoned, Keith always used his mask as a barrier between himself and his prey. The thought of peering into the fearful stares of others, yet not exposing the horror in his own eyes strangely comforted him. Despite this protection of superiority, it was pitiful, watching lost souls emerge from their empty bodies.

 

What hurt him most, however, more than the visual experience of reaping, were those dreaded words the spirits would always cry:

 

 _I don’t want to die_.

 

 

But quite frankly, after rinsing and repeating the process another nine-thousand times, he was definitely more callous to the situation. In fact, he has started to have amusement from watching the same ridiculous melodramatic act like a broken record player--typical from such _pathetic_ souls. The well of pity that once filled his heart had run completely.

 

The year before, Takashi Shirogane and Keith Kogane were transferred from the eastern-hemisphere Galra Order of Shinigamis to a base located in the west, where they were surprisingly taken under the wing of the heiress Allura, who had also been transferred to the facility. Despite the tedious need to adjust to the new environment, Keith’s workload did get lighter in comparison to when he was still working hours between Korea and Japan. Nonetheless, every job was basically dragging whatever relentlessly noisy soul from the Mortal Realm to the Mortem Realm daily.

 

Hopefully, this task would be quick, considering that Shiro and Allura were waiting for him back at the Bureau. He knew the two, like the parent figures they are, would worry incessantly if their guest of honor arrived late.

 

~

 

“A _shinigami_ ? Like the one from _Bleach_?”

 

“E-excuse me?” Keith couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Here he was, dressed in his white skull mask that served as his emblem as a grim reaper, and this “Lance Charles McClain” had equated him to some _shounen_ series.

 

Lance’s eyes widened in awe. “Holy shit, dude! Your cosplay is amazing! How did you do all those effects? Like the flying and stuff.” He exaggerated wide arm movements to accompany his words. “Though I don’t exactly know which character you are. I haven’t seen the anime in a while.”

 

“Cospla--no! This isn’t cosplay!” Keith stuttered, offended. “How dare you laugh in the face of Death!”

 

Lance continued to cackle. “Man, this is one hell of a dream, right here. Maybe Carmen’s right that I have to tone down on anime.”

 

Keith grit his teeth. “Well, you aren’t alive anymore, so don’t waste your breath.”

 

Lance overdramatically clutched his chest. “So this cosplayer is telling me I’m dead now.” He pointed a finger gun in Keith’s direction.

 

“Honestly, I thought you only had a hair problem.” He eyed the strands of a mullet that peeked from the sides of Keith’s neck. “But it seems like you’ve got a bad case of weebery too, _hermano_. Consider getting it checked--”

 

“Look.” Keith snapped. He ripped away his mask and threw it at Lance. The boy gave a loud yelp before flashing a glare at Keith.

 

“Hey! What was that for--” He rubbed his arm confusingly, as if thrown off that he had felt pain.

 

Keith ignored his comment, returning the glare with furrowed eyebrows. “Look, _man_ , I _hate_ to be the bearer of bad news, but guess what? You’re _dead_ , and I’m kind of on a schedule right now.” He pulled out his pocket watch, whose intricately-detailed hands moved with every tick.

 

Frozen shock dawned over Lance’s face “Are...are you serious?”

 

Keith pointed with his eyes. “You tell me.”

 

The boy’s body stiffened when he realized that he was semi-translucent. Wisps of spirit flickered like flame around his frame, giving a ghostly blue glow. He began to wave his arms, almost mesmerized by the swirls that trailed behind.

 

Keith ran his fingers through his hair, exasperating a sigh. “Most souls wouldn’t wander so far away from their body as you would,” he admitted.

 

“I...I guess I kind of just thought this was a dream,” Lance pointed at the starry night sky above him. “I figured I could somehow fly into space…”

 

“Well your little _dream_ made it a pain in the ass for me to track you down, once I saw your empty corpse of a vessel.”

 

“C-corpse?” Lance’s face paled.

 

“Yes,” Keith answered sarcastically. “Corpse.”

 

Lance stiffly clasped the back of his neck with his hand. “So..I guess you’re here to take me to wherever, huh? Well... okay, what are you waiting for?”

 

“Don’t be such a crybaby--wait, what?” Keith cut himself short from his habitually blunt consoling he would say to most spirits.

 

“I _said_ , what are you waiting for? If you came for me, then I’m all yours, baby.” Lance spread his arms out open.

 

“You’re...you’re kidding right?”

 

“Not at all, buddy. Cross my heart.”

 

Keith turned away, muttering, “Unbelievable.”

 

“Hey, you should have more faith in me!” Lance pointed out as he approached the reaper.

 

Keith scoffed. “After you _unknowingly_ abandoned your body _and_ called me some _Bleach_ character? I think not.”

 

“Ah, so you _do_ know the series, then.”

 

Swirling the staff of his scythe between his hands, Keith pointed the blade towards Lance. The tip of the blade was an discomforting few inches away from pricking Lance’s heart, but Keith’s gaze was even sharper.

 

“Woah, woah, woah, hold up,” Lance said as he rose both hands innocently. Keith exasperated a frustrated sigh.

 

“Could I just...state some final words before you ship me to the afterlife?”

 

Keith narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “If I let you, will you finally shut up for once and quit making my job harder than it already is?”

 

“On my honor, mullet man.”

 

Keith ignored the comment before flicking his scythe towards himself. He rested the jet-black staff on his shoulder. “Speak.”

 

“I thought the whole ‘dying’ process would involve me being carried away by a beautiful angel,” Lance admitted.

 

Keith scoffed. “Well, I apologize for not be blonde, female, dressed in white and covered in wings.”

 

Lance frowned. “What? No, no, no, you got it all wrong. This is _exactly_ how envisioned it. This is perfect!”

 

“ _Excuse me_?” Keith choked the words out of his mouth.

 

“Look, just...don’t laugh when I say this, all right?”

 

Keith answered with a nonchalant shrug. “My colleagues say I have a shitty sense of humor, anyway. Impress me”

 

“Okay, here goes,” Lance took an exaggerated deep breath before mouthing something inaudible.

 

Keith cocked his head to the side. “Speak up.”

 

Lance heaved another sigh before stating more quickly but clearly, “I’ve never had a first kiss before.” He covered his face with his hands, muttering into his palms “I can’t believe I just said that.”

 

Keith raised an eyebrow. “So, what you’re trying to say is, you want a kiss from Death himself?”

 

Lance avoided staring into Keith’s blood-red eyes. “Y-yeah, I guess.”

 

“You do realize just how desperate you sound right now.” Keith’s voiced was undoubtedly coated in disgust, but slight amusement was laced around his words.

 

“I-I know!” A defensive Lance fumbled. “But don’t get me wrong, I like boys just as much as girls! It’s just...If I’m going to die, may as well die...in the arms of an angel?” He gave a blushing, crooked smile and finger-guns to accompany his finessed pun.

 

When was the last time Keith had laughed? A hundred years? Two hundred? Shiro had already spent forever trying to squeeze a decent laugh out of him, but had embarrassed himself with corny jokes that made Keith groan and Allura giggle. Keith’s eyes crinkled as he chuckled, muffling his voice with his hand.

 

“You...you are by far the most interesting human I’ve met in the past thousand years,” he finally confessed as his laughter began to subside.

 

Lance used the opportunity of flamboyantly bowing to hide his beet-red face. “I’ll gladly take that as a compliment. Hopefully my humor has wooed Sir Embodiment of Death?”

 

“Not a chance.”

 

Lance snapped his fingers. “Damn,” he muttered. “I guess that means our deal is off--”

 

“Alright, hold up,” Keith raised his hand. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “As a grim reaper,” he stated, “I am not permitted to feel emotion--lest pity towards humans. It’s just part of the’ ALTEA code.”

 

“ALTEA?”

 

“All Lives are Temporary, Ephemeral and Assembled,” Keith recited mechanically.

 

Lance scrunched his nose, offended. “Well, isn’t that just harsh.”

 

“Not when you have to work your ass off reaping souls left and right. And after doing it for more years than I can remember? Mortals like you have it so easy. To our kind, you are nothing more than another day’s task on the laundry list, no more than livestock.

 

So even if you kiss me, it’ll be no more satisfying than kissing a brick wall. I feel _nothing_.”

 

“‘ _Nothing?_ ’” Lance echoed as he began to close the distance between him and Keith. “Are you sure about that? Because no one laughs at my jokes without getting a dash of my Lance-speciality charm.”

 

“Your stupidity amused me,” Keith argued. “You were just lucky.”

 

“Was I really?” Lance gently grabbed Keith’s chin. “Wanna test my luck out again?”

 

Keith wore a stone-cold poker face.  

 

“Try me.”

 

When Lance slotted his lips onto Keith, Keith had closed his eyes. This definitely wasn’t Keith’s first kiss; he had blurry recollections of kissing others, but he could scarcely make out who and when he had kissed--all just thrown away, useless memories. He welcomed the darkness from behind his eyelids.

 

_Ba-dump. Ba-dump._

 

 _What was that sound?_ Keith realized that the strange pounding had come from his chest--something that had never happened before, from what he could recall. Whatever was making his noise, it punched his breast, _hard._ His body started to burn, _melt_ even, as if his stone-cold self were crumbling under Lance’s lips.

 

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

 

Keith began to panic at the surge of emotion that tore within his breast. He felt his empty heart tug towards Lance’s soul, almost forcefully like a magnet. From the darkness that embraced his eyes, he could see a flash of bright blue.

 

Gasping, Keith broke his lips away from Lance, shoving the boy back. He clumsily wiped the back of his hand against his lips.

 

Lance, at first stunned by Keith’s reaction, broke into a devilish beam.

 

“Well, have you fallen for my charms, Mr. _I feel nothing_?”

 

“I-I..!” Keith felt his face turn into a deep red that reached to the tips of his ears. “Yes...N-No! Wait, no, I-!” He sputtered the broken words out of his mouth. He clutched his chest with his hand.

 

“Just..just what did you do to me?”

 

“What?” Lance said, bewildered. His face of delight fell into a look of concern. “What do you mean, ‘what did you do’? I just kissed you!”

 

“No, you did more than that, you lying bastard,” Keith panted, using one hand to block Lance. His fingers clasped tighter on his chest. “You..! I…!”

 

His voice fell to a weak whisper. “I have to go.”

 

Keith whirled around, summoning forth his scythe. With a full crescent-like slash, he tore the star-speckled fabric of the Mortal Realm, opening a portal into the eerie twilight of the Mortem Realm.

 

“Wait! Mr. Death! I didn’t mean to hurt you! I’m sorry, I--”

 

Keith leaped into the hole, still wiping his mouth with his free hand as he tried to ignore Lance’s cries.

 

At the end of the portal, Keith clumsily landed on his feet. He was back in the conference room of the Bureau, where Allura and Shiro were seated across one another, conversing. A red velvet cake sat between them. Knees buckling, Keith clutched onto one of the chairs to keep himself from falling.

 

Shiro’s eyebrows shot upward. “Keith!” His chair squeaked as he raced to Keith’s side, gently resting him on his shoulder.

 

“Don’t worry, I got you.”

 

Allura flashed a look of worry, supporting Keith on his other side. “Keith, we were so worried! Shiro, let’s move him into this seat.”

 

When Keith had finally caught his breath, Shiro gently placed his hand on his shoulder. “You were out for a while. Allura and I were worried that something wrong happened.”

 

Keith shook his head. “N-nothing wrong happened, not at all,” he lied. “Just a particularly difficult soul today is all.”

 

Allura let out a soft sigh of empathy. “Oh, you know how it is. Some souls are just a tad more... _challenging_ to coax than others. On the other hand, you provided us ample time to prepare refreshments to celebrate your ten-thousandth soul anniversary! We were worried we wouldn’t be able to prepare everything in time, considering how promptly you work. Thankfully, the cake came just in time!”

 

"It's red velvet, too--your favorite!" Shiro beamed his infamous fatherly smile. “Congratulations, Keith! You’re a full-fledged reaper of Altea.  Hey, how about you show us your lucky _hitodama_. We can all book it in the Spirit Ward archives together after some cake.”

 

Keith’s felt realization sink in. “Oh, shit.”

 

Shiro’s smile began to dim. “Keith?” he asked, “What’s wrong? You _did_ bring the soul with you, right?”

 

Keith felt himself slump into his chair as he covered his eyes. He mumbled an endless chain of curses as he tried to grab his mask.

 

But his mask wasn't there.

 

“Keith?” Shiro cocked his head to the side in confusion. “Are you alive--well, you know what I mean, but--”

 

Keith allowed himself to drown out Shiro’s voice as his hands to press harder against his face.

 

He had forgotten his duty, forgotten his mask and most importantly:

 

he had forgotten to collect Lance's soul.


	2. What is mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 2 failed to please me with pool shenanigans, so I just made up my own.
> 
> Also feat. space dad shiro and Lance's "nyas"
> 
> (per usual, I didn't beta, so please forgive me for any grammar/spelling errors)

Keith scanned the rows of books that were harbored in the ALTEA Archive. He had hoped that there were remaining documents or records describing the strange phenomenon he experienced the night before. 

He glossed his finger against each binding, quietly murmuring the titles labeled on each one in slurs.

 

_ Anthology of the Human Soul, All Souls Mortal: an Encyclopedia, Theories of of Mortal Realms, Mortals 101, the Heart of Mortal Matters...  _ There was an abundance of research towards mortal hearts, souls and spirits, naturally, but there was so little about the anatomy of Reapers, if any at all. He continued to roam through the aisle.

 

Behind him, a stern Shiro followed. 

 

“It isn’t like you to be so forgetful, Keith,” Shiro rambled, crossing his arms. “Especially making a mistake as careless as that. We’re lucky that Allura is helping us stall for time. Who knows what would’ve happened if Coran knew what you did.”

 

Keith held back his tongue; as annoyed as he was at his mentor’s lecture, he knew that Shiro was right.

 

“Not to mention,” Shiro added, “You lost the soul. The soul knows the existence of reapers now--Keith, do you understand just how urgent this issue is?”

 

“Yeah. I know.”

 

“Thank the Gods that the soul actually came from some innocent kid and not some dark-hearted villain, so Coran won’t notice what’s going on. Allura said that she put a substitute soul in the Spirit Ward, but that cover is only going to last so long. Do you--”

 

“I get it, Shiro,” Keith cut in. “I just...” He ruffled his bangs frustratingly.

 

“Keith,” Shiro’s voice softened, though it was still edged with concern. “Did something happen during your mission? Be honest.” 

 

For a brief moment, Lance’s stupid face flashed in his mind. He sighed, mentally shoving away the thought before replying, “No. Yesterday was just... bad luck, I guess. It wasn't my day.”

 

Shiro scoffed with disbelief. “‘Bad luck’, huh? If you’re going to come up with an excuse, at least make an effort not to make it so transparent. 

 

But,” he added, “I’m not going to police you. Are you sure you won’t need my help in cleaning up this mess?”

 

Keith shook his head. “This was my mistake, so only I should be the one to fix it. You’ve got your own business to take care of; no need to stress yourself out by taking on my workload, too.”

 

“Alright,” he grunted before raising an eyebrow. “You’ve been scanning the  _ Soul  _ Genre aisle for a while now. You know there are more technological ways to get what you’re looking for, so why here?”

 

_ And have the Grim Reapers up my ass in my search history?  I don't think so.  _ Keith shrugged away his remark. “Just ‘cause,” he lied.

 

“I didn’t think you’d be more old-fashioned than me,” Shiro laughed, arching a brow.

 

“So you admit that you’re old?”

 

“What! I..! Keith, I’m not  _ that  _ old!” Shiro protested.

 

“Whatever,” Keith said dismissively, “I didn’t find what I was looking for, anyway.”

 

He summoned his scythe and slashed a portal into the air.

 

“Are you sure you don’t need a mask?” Shiro questioned, pointing at Keith’s face.

 

Keith scoffed. “Why would I need a mask when the asshole’s already seen me? Besides, I’ll get my mask back while I drag his soul back to Mortem. It’ll be like killing two birds with one stone.”

 

“If worse comes to worse, don’t worry about the mask,” Shiro admitted. “I can always get you another one, you know; it was getting pretty worn out, anyway.”

 

“As if. You’re the one who gave it to me. Of course I need to get it back,” Keith retorted.

 

Shiro cracked a smile.  _ This kid. _ “Be careful out there. It’s going to take a level of coaxing to convince that soul to come back to us. And don’t forget--”

 

“Patience yields focus,” Keith finished, dipping himself into the crevice. “I know, Shiro. See you later, old man.”

 

“‘Old man--Keith! Not again! I-”

 

Keith smirked as he caught a quick glimpse of Shiro’s bewildered face before delving into the darkness.

 

\---

  
  


“Yeah, right, Lance,” Pidge scoffed as they took a sip of coffee (a.k.a. their lifeblood), “I told you I believe in all things supernatural, but this is crossing the line.”

 

Lance’s jaw fell open. “Pidge, how could you?” He gasped. “Out of all the people who believe in conspiracy shit, I thought you would be on my side! I trusted you!”

 

Hunk hummed. “Sorry, buddy, but I’m with Pidge on this one. Not that I don’t trust you but…” he trailed off. He bit into his french toast to avoid finishing his sentence.

 

Lance groaned. “Guys, I swear!” He moved his arms in exaggerated motions to accompany his storytelling. “Last night, when I blacked out, I saw that I was flying, right? And then I went through the roof, where I ran into this grim reaper mullet dude who was trying to drag me to the afterlife--”

 

“And you made out with him,” Pidge finished, still unimpressed. 

 

Lance snapped his hands. “Exactly!”

 

“And then went back by tearing the fabric of the universe.”

 

“Exactly!”

 

“Lies.”

 

“What? But--”

 

Pidge raised an eyebrow. “Lance, you’re a really smart guy, but this? Hunk had a heart attack when he went to check on you.”

 

“I almost called 911, dude,” Hunk added. “I thought you were dead.”

 

_ I  _ was  _ dead _ , Lance made every effort to restrain himself from retorting.

 

_ Watching his own dead “corpse” of a self was daunting; sure, he was one hell of a fine specimen, but that didn’t change the fact that he had died. When he submerged his spirit back into his body, he had gasped awake, choking as his blood started pumping inside him again. _

 

_ His body was freezing cold, despite the fact that he was still dressed in his blue, fuzzy robe and furry lion slippers. The chilling knowledge that his body had once been lifeless led a cold sweat crawling down his back. _

 

_ It wasn’t until Hunk’s banging and yelling from the other side of the bathroom door did Lance realize that he was still alive and breathing. When he answered the door, Hunk had stared in shock. _

 

_ In the mirror, Lance realized that his face was as white as a sheet, with blue lips. He lost all color. _

 

_ “D-do you need to see a doctor?” Hunk fumbled to dial 9-1-1 with one hand, the other clasping Lance by the shoulder. “Buddy, you look pale as a ghost! Are you alright?” _

 

_ Lance nodded his head. “Don’t call a doctor, Hunk,” he reassured. “I’m fine.” _

 

_ Hunk looked unconvinced. “Don’t lie to me, Lance. What the hell happened?” _

 

_ Lance stared at Hunk dead in the eye. “I think...I just made out with Death.” _

  
  


“No more locking the bathroom door,” Hunk declared. “I don’t know what I’d do if what happened last night happened again.”

 

Lance opened his mouth to protest, only to shut it again. “‘K,” he mumbled, picking up his empty tray.

 

“Where are you headed?” Pidge piped up. “It’s the weekend. We don’t have classes today.”

 

“I’m gonna go practice,” he replied.

 

Hunk frowned. “Again? But you already practiced last night, and you hit your head pretty hard yesterday. Are you sure--”

 

But Lance had already exited the cafeteria.

 

\--   
  


He didn’t know why,  but Lance always had a strange affinity to floating. Maybe because of his own small dream of entering into space--to be able to fly through the endless sky, counting the stars before his eyes.

 

But the best he can get is a mediocre dive in the Garrison Boarding School swimming pool.

 

He started with a little dolphin kick, his long legs swiftly propelling him through the water. As he inched towards the center area of the pool, he turned over, allowing his limbs to go limp underneath him as he stilled himself on the water. 

 

It was only natural that he loved the movement in the subtle ripples. Hell, the only reason why he was privileged enough to get into the Garrison Boarding School program was because he was on an athletic scholarship. 

 

He definitely had brains, but he always felt that his intelligence was nothing but a tiny grain compared to what his two genius friends had to offer; what would only take Pidge Holt and Hunk Garrett ten minutes to learn would require him an extra hour of hardcore studying. 

Nonetheless, he was incredibly grateful whenever they offered him their help--even if he felt somewhat ashamed for being dependent on anyone but himself.

 

Without swimming, he was  _ nothing _ .

 

Taking a deep breath, Lance cocked his head back, allowing his body to break into the water. The chlorine was nasty compared to the salty smell of home,but it sufficed.

 

As he dove deeper and deeper, Lance slightly opened his eyes, only to find himself face-to-face with the grim reaper.

 

Familiar red eyes narrowed. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

 

Lance’s eyes stretched wide open as bubbles spewed from his lips. He quickly swam to the surface, hacking a cough as he tried to force the water out of his lungs.

 

“What the hell!” he gasped.

 

Keith, without even breaking a ripple in the water, emerged, his arms crossed. He was completely dry, while a choking, sopping-wet Lance threw his body over the lane line.

 

“Holy shit,” Lance finally forced out, “so that wasn’t a dream!”

 

Keith narrowed his eyes. “What, did you just think before was a random wet dream?”

 

“I--well, yes,” Lance admitted, but he shook his head. “But nevermind that! You…! Don’t you ever scare me like that again, or I swear to Saint Maria…!”

 

Keith hummed. “Maybe one day I’ll do enough to scare that soul out of your body.”

 

“...Please tell me you’re joking on that.”

 

Dismissing Lance’s response, Keith tapped his fingers impatiently on his arm. “I came to retrieve what was mine.”

 

Lance’s face scrunched up in confusion. His head snapped back up when he came with an answer. “Oh! That’s right. I owe you an apology. Look,  _ hombre _ , I’m really sorry if I hurt you or anything before--”

 

“What? No! I didn’t come here to hear of some stupid apology!”

 

“Wow, okay.  _ Rude _ ,” Lance pouted. “Then what do you want? I mean, if you want money, I’ve got like ten bucks but--”

 

“Don’t take me for some Styx, ‘buddy’. I don’t take petty bribery.”

 

Lance clapped his hands. “Oh! Wait, now I know. You came here for your mask, right? I...actually didn’t pick it up; I think it’s still on the rooftop, but if you--”

 

“That’s not all that I came to retrieve.”

 

Lance’s eyebrows knitted. He used his fingers to tally his thoughts. “I gave you an apology, told you where your mask is...isn’t that it? What other things do you even want?”

 

“I came to get what was mine.”

 

"'Mine?'"

 

"You."

 

“O-oh…” Lance gaped. Red began to bloom on his face, so warm that the pool against the cool it. He allowed himself sink his head chin-deep to pale his blush. 

 

Keith frowned before realizing the double-sided meaning of his words. He turned away, using his hood to hide his embarrassment.

 

“S-shut up! That’s not what I meant,” he stuttered, “I mean! You know what I mean! Anyway, you have to come with me. Now.”

 

Lance clicked his tongue. “But what if I don’t want to go with you, thought?” he challenged.

 

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Keith reminded him.

 

“And yet here I am,” Lance retorted, curling his lip into a smirk.

 

“You little--”

 

“Lance!” The squeaks of sneakers began to echo inside the gymnasium, amplifying the sounds into echoes.

 

Panicking, Lance and Keith exchanged a look. While most grim reapers easily slipped through the Mortal Realm undetected, that certainly didn’t make them invisible. 

 

Lance leaned forward to grab Keith’s leg. “Follow me,” he demanded through gritted teeth.

Swiftly, Lance swam so that there was a narrow distance between himself and the edge of the pool. He pointed to that space.

 

“Get down in here, and  _ don’t move _ .”

 

“Are you insane?” Keith protested.

 

“Look, Mr. Death, do you want to get caught by the gremlin or not?”

 

Defeated, Keith plunged himself between the pool walls and Lance. He nearly gasped when he found his face only inches away from Lance’s chest, but quickly clasped his hands over his mouth when the voices became louder.

 

“H-Hunk! Pidge!” Lance managed to keep his voice steady and casual. “My main Nyas. What’s up?”

 

Pidge stopped to cringe. They scrunched up their nose. “First of all, don’t ever call me that again.”

 

Behind them, Hunk greeted between gasps, “Hey, Lance.” 

 

Pidge, despite their small legs, could bolt through the hallways at a speed impressive for someone who spent half their time obliterating players on  _ Overwatch _ . Thankfully, the two were far away from the edge of the pool to notice Keith’s body under Lance’s

 

“Second--” They continued their announcement. They knelled down, zipping open their backpack. They yanked out what appeared to be a mask. “Check it out!”

 

It took every nerve in Lance’s body to not flinch at the familiar red lion-dog mask that he had seen the day he died.

 

“Isn’t it neat?” Pidge sang as they wore the mask, “Hunk and I found this on the roof while we were setting up for the Stargazing event tonight. To think an artifact like this randomly popped out of nowhere!”

 

“Super cool!” Lance forced his throat to choke out.

 

“Pidge, don’t forget,” Hunk reminded them, “We gotta return it. I’m sure that the owner is someone around the school; they probably forgot to get it from the roof.”

 

Pidge’s smile faded. “I guess you’re right,” they murmured, disappointed. “But how are we gonna find the owner? The student body is pretty big.”

 

Hunk shrugged. “We could just drop this off at Principal Iverson’s, but let’s go check around first before that happens. Lance, are you coming?”

 

Lance nervously smiled. “You guys go ahead,” he waved his hand dismissively, “I’ll catch up in a bit.”

 

“Alright, buddy. Catch you later!”

 

The moment that the steel doors of the gym closed shut, Lance pushed himself away from the pool wall. Keith emerged from the water, gasping.

 

“Did you hear what they said?” Lance said while Keith caught his breath.

 

“Hear what?” Keith didn’t need to hold his breath in the first place; Water was synonymous to life, hence, reapers could not physically be touched by it, be it from tears to rain to pool-water. The sheer nervousness of being cornered by Lance’s body, ridged with muscles from dedicated training, had knocked the wind out of him. The pain in his chest had returned, not as aggressively as before, but it nonetheless made the situation suffocating. Keith's ears still pounded.

 

"My friends found your mask,” Lance recapped. “They might bring  it to the principal, who I’m  _ pretty  _ sure would scare me to death more than you ever could. You'd have to pry that mask old of his dead hands if you want it.”

 

“Why couldn’t you have just asked for it?” Keith pointed out.

 

“And what excuse would I have for that?”

 

“You could just say it was yours.”

 

“Dude , no offense, but your mask looks like it could be as old as my _abuelita_.”

 

Keith bit his bottom lip. “But-- 

 

“‘But’ what? How could they ever believe me? Like, ‘Oh, yeah, this mask is actually mine.’ As if! They’re my  _ friends _ , Death--they know my every joke and meme, and both have IQ’s of like, 200, each. 

 

Not to mention, they’re my  _ best _ friends; They know far better than that.”

 

“Then just say you know the owner.”

 

“Oh, yes, certainly, I can just  _ stroll  _ in and say, ‘Hey, Pidge, Hunk? That mask belongs to the guy is the reaper who tried to  _ kill me  _ yesterday--”

 

“Hey, I didn’t try to kill you, I tried to--”

 

Hunk burst into the gymnasium. “Sorry, Lance! Pidge accidentally forgot their pencil case in here, and--” He cut short when he saw the Keith who was wedged between Lance and the pool.

 

“Wha...what’s going on here?”   
  



End file.
